Showing posts with label peter cushing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peter cushing. Show all posts

20101117

Saturday May 15, 1976



David L's renunciation of alcohol deters him from dwelling for long periods in public houses and I sympathise with him entirely. If I'd been told not to touch the stuff again (drink) a dimly lit ale house would be last place you'd find me. The poor sod must have suffered a lot because his diet now prevents him from eating virtually anything he ate prior to his illness.

Go see 'Cabaret' with David at 6.30 in Shipley. Excellent film. Four years old though, but much better than I thought it would be. Only about 20 people in the cinema.

Home at 10.45 and see 'The Hound of the Baskerville's' on the BBC. A pathetic film in which Peter Cushing gives a poor, half-hearted performance as Sherlock Holmes. Conan Doyle would be spinning in his grave I'm sure. Never once seen Cushing in a decent film.

Retire to bed at 1.30am or thereabouts and sit watching the moon which looks quite full.

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20100318

Monday March 31, 1975

Holiday in England, Ireland & Wales. Wake at a civilised hour and potter around over the breakfast table for several minutes before leaping back upstairs to prepare for this afternoon's jaunt to the cinema. Mama is in no amicable mood and makes herself heard throughout the British Empire that was - possibly with the exception of Australia - which isn't quite in her voice range.

At 1.15 Dave, Sandra and Gary collect me and we go to Yeadon to see 'What's Up Doc?' with Barbara Streisand and Ryan O'Neal. Bloody brilliant film. Nearly choked at one point. Believe it or not, I could quite fancy Sandra, who is very attractive with an exceptional personality. Yes, my heart could quite easily become embroiled with hers. Sense of humour is the main thing. Gary is such a laugh too - just like Dave was at that age.

Lynn and Dave make a sudden appearance in 'What's Up Doc?' and I accompanied them home at the end to save Dave L the journey. Poor Mr Baker threw up everywhere behind the cinema and he looked deathly on his arrival home. Lynn sent him off to bed where he kipped soundly for a few hours. Mum and Dad didn't come home until after 10 and I sat in front of the tv all night. Bed at about 1am, after a boring Peter Cushing film which was supposed to be horrific, but not.

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Wednesday May 2, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11 Mum. To try and keep a journal, run and pub and a baby is asking the impossible. Gone is that old wit and sparkle b...